Why Lisa Scott Should Become a Virgin

Driving through Motueka in a sports car with the warm wind in my hair. Take that, Lucy Jordan!

Lisa Scott is a writer, broadcaster, columnist and author. Reading about her bruised but undaunted spirit that set her up for a defiant Divorce Roady, I was inspired to invite her on a detour to my place.

During her visit, I discovered that part of her defiance included proving she was still attractive to men, so I recommended my version of her roady: decide to become a virgin. The suggestion was met with the tolerance given to a batty aunt, and she went home to write an article about her problems with internet dating.

I know! I know! We can’t physically reconstruct virginity without surgery. What I was recommending was repairing the emotional hymen. It’s a tricky operation when surrounded by men with the anatomy and mind-set of penetration.

Let’s look at the style of woman who attracts more men than others. She has a confidence, or a vulnerability, that appeals to many men, but not all. And it’s the men who aren’t interested that make her work harder to be desirable.

Lonely singletons are convinced they will never find their ideal life partner. Serial  monogamist share the same conviction but harbour their insecurities in deeper waters than the openly needy. Both are unable to  understand how they can be loved for who they are, despite (or because of) their imperfections.

So the popular* girl hides important parts of herself, rather than risk being seen as ugly. But then, when her attraction is most critical for her relationship to survive, she can’t keep up the energy required to hide her true self. It comes out in a reveal that’s frightening for all involved. 

Okay, so I might have been one of those popular* girls who thought success required the love of a Good Man. Problem is, when all those teenage hormones are taking your brain hostage, muscle and tan are the blinding indicators of a Good Man.

But watch out! Those hormones can last into your twenties. Then, you meet somebody with a brain, and OMG this is true love. But it’s only the endorphins of adulthood moving in to replace the excitement of being a teenager in love.

My epiphany came when I discovered my This-Is-The-One hiding out in the basement with a bottle of gin. The lies of his alcoholism had warped reality to justify his addiction.  When I understood the delusion, I realised that I was also an addict; hooked on Romantic Love.

It had begun when I discarded my original virginity as a rite of passage into adulthood. Once it was gone, I could use the vaginal wrench freely to crush a man’s belief in his own free will. When I discovered the currency of sex, I became a compulsive shopper in love’s bargain basement.

I learned that an addicted brain is a traitor, so my solution was to go cold turkey. Virginity has the power of veto. By replacing the anarchy of casual sex with the status of virginity, I had the control to save myself for somebody who deserved more than a snatch a grab.

But a second-hand virginity isn’t much to give away. The only way I knew to contribute to a relationship was to mirror what I thought my partner wanted. The solution was to  put myself into a virtual convent and take a long, hard look at myself.

Trust me! You can’t see yourself through somebody else’s eyes. The adoration of a life partner is a wonderful thing, but only if you’re on the right path. If you haven’t found your path, you can only be the passenger on somebody else’s journey.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but if the journey is fueled by sex and status, you’ll need to be stopping at too many service stations for a refill. A successful relationship requires the perpetual motion of self love.

But don’t get too comfortable! If the love affair with yourself becomes an exclusive relationship, you’ll end up as one of those batty maiden aunts.

*Replace “popular” with “slutty” if you haven’t redefined gender roles since men who invented religion told you what they were.


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